This is the world in its true form
by Juushika Redgrave
Summary: A retelling of the events that follow Another Side, Another Story and Deep Dive. Riku defeats Roxas and takes him back to the mansion in order to determine if Sora is somewhere inside Roxas. RikuxRoxas, slight RikuxSora, angst, dubcon, explicit, channish.


Disclaimers, warnings, and notes: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. I am making no profit. This story contains explicit sex between two males (yaoi/slash, NC-17), dubious consent, and chan. You have been warned. This story is also somewhat AU: it retells the second half of the battle between Riku and Roxas (not long after Another Side, Another Story/Deep Dive). Title comes from Deep Dive. I appreciate all feedback, be it constructive or just a good word. Enjoy.

Completed 12.2.07

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**'This is the world in its true form.'**

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After Roxas falls unconscious, the keyblade disappears from Riku's hand, leaving him gripping air. A moment passes before he rises from his crouch, stands, and walks some steps behind him. 

Roxas lies on the ground, his hood fallen back over his forehead, spikes of hair streaming forth over his brow. His eyes are closed, gently as if in sleep. His shoulders are thrown back, his chest wide and exposed, lifted up to the falling rain. It splashes down and runs over the leather of his coat, black on black. That is where his heart would be, if he had one.

Riku takes one more step forward and stands over Roxas. For some time he does not move but merely looks down, his feet spread, his hand still curled as if to clutch the handle of a keyblade. The rain falls around them, striking off of the concrete and echoing endlessly through the city square. After the clash and clang of their battle, the rainfall sounds of silence.

The shadows begin to move. They creep out of the night, twitching, growing, rising, and then their eyes are visible, glowing yellow in the dark. The rain still falls, but now Riku interrupts its silence: his sole scrapes against the concrete as he spins around, and with the sound of wind and metal he grips his own blade, the edge flashing down around him, tip nearly grinding the concrete, and then up as he knocks away a jumping Heartless. He looks straight ahead, even as he leans back, blade still held ahead of him with one hand, groping behind him with the other. He wards off another leaping Heartless, slicing through it, returning it to the night. He spins the handle, swipes the blade the other way, opens up a ring of safety between himself, Roxas, and the encroaching mass of Shadows. Then he pauses, pulls Roxas against him, and behind him a portal opens. Tendrils the color of a fresh deep bruise reaching out and stroke the edge of his robes. Holding Roxas to his side, the boy's dead weight lolling away from him, he steps back, and the portal envelops him, brightens with a shock of light, and dissipates.

In a room with long bare walls and an odd blue cast, a portal grows and sparks. Te portal does not appear out of place, but the bed that stands in one corner does. Riku steps out of the portal, dragging Roxas alongside him, and as the portal sinks down and away he drags Roxas's weight across the room and lets him fall, heavy, on the bed. The boy falls forward and then to his side, lying half on the bed, his hood lying half across his face. Riku straightens and steps back.

His head downturned, Riku's hair falls across his forehead and over the blindfold that covers his eyes. His robes hang heavy around him, billowing out on the featureless blue floor, leaving a pool of water at their edge. Slowly, his shoulders slump forward. Slowly, he raises one hand. He presses two fingertips to the edge of his blindfold, then grasps it. The blind pulls away, catches as the knot beneath his long hair slips apart, and then flutters from his brow, from his fingertips, to the ground.

Riku drops down to one knee in front of the bed and in front of Roxas. His eyes are open only to slits, narrow and ice blue, as if the light in the room is too bright for him after the darkness of the blindfold.

"I know why you have the keyblade," he says.

He pushes the hood away from Roxas's face and over his hair. The leather soaks water into the bedsheet. Riku turns his attention to the sheet, pulling it away from his pillow. He bites and pulls at one edge until it frays, and then rips along the grain of the fabric, tearing free a long strip. He rolls Roxas onto his side, until he can pull both arms behind the boy's back. On his knees in front of the bed, he uses the strip of fabric to binds Roxas's wrist together. With the knot pulled tight, he sighs to himself and rips a second strip off of the sheet. With this, he curls the boy's hands into fists and binds them, too, first the right and then the left, leaving no room for a keyblade to materialize. Only then does he lean back.

First the right and then the left, he pulls his gloves off of his hands and drops them on the floor, not far from his blindfold.

"Come on, now," he says. His voice is soft, but the room is quiet except for their joint breathing, and so his words are as distinct as the pings of falling water and ice. Roxas's cheek rests on the bed, and Riku reaches out a bare hand and cups the other cheek in his palm, his thumb running across Roxas's cheekbone. "Come on, Sora," he says.

There is a pause long enough for the words to vibrate and Riku to take a deep breath, and then he jerks his hand away as if Roxas has shocked him, static electricity built up in the many short spikes of his hair. Riku's breathing has become heavy and harsh, making his chest heave up and out each time he gasps in air. He raises his hand again, and strikes Roxas along the same cheekbone. The sound of it rings, knocking back on the featureless walls, and Roxas jerks to wakefulness, his eyes wide, his shoulders tensing as he tries to rip his hands apart, bring them up and protect himself. As he struggles, he looses balance and falls off the bed, landing on his shoulder, half-fetal against the floor.

Cheek to the floor now, Roxas turns his head and looks up, meeting Riku's eyes with his own.

"You," Roxas says. He bares his teeth and breathes in between them. "Untie me."

"No." Riku's hair hangs heavy over his naked eyes.

"Who are you?"

Riku bends down and grasps Roxas by the collar. The robe bunches and folds around his fist as he yanks Roxas up and drops him on the bed. He stands to his full height and rolls his head back, letting his hair fall away from his eyes, looking down at Roxas. "Shut up."

The command drives them both to silence. Roxas pulls at his bindings, his shoulders shifting, but though he flexes his wrists and fingers, the sheets remain firmly tied. The two young men watch each other, and with the set of his brow, Roxas might as well be standing eye to eye with Riku.

Riku looks away first, his hands bunching to fists at his sides. "You have his eyes," he says. Against the rigid posture of his body, his voice has vacillated again to a liquid softness.

"Whose eyes?"

"Shut up," Riku says again, and looks back to Roxas. "You don't have his voice."

"Whose!" Roxas is struggling against his bindings again, making the bed shake beneath him. "Who are you?"

Riku knees Roxas in the chest, knocking him down. His shoulders hit the wall and it stops him, but Riku has climbed onto the bed, his knees on the outside of Roxas's thighs, his hand fisted again in Roxas's collar. He lifts his shoulders from the wall, then slams him back down so that his head hits it with a crack.

"I said," he says, "shut up." And then, as soft as two single drops of rain, he adds, "Sora."

"Who is Sora?" Roxas's lips hug and shape his words with clear pronunciation and careful diction, and they ring crisp and clear in the room's silence. Hand still gripping the front of his robe, Riku does not respond. He looks Roxas in the eyes, and Roxas's pupils dilate as he stares back.

Riku yanks Roxas away from the wall once again, close enough this time that he can crush his mouth against Roxas's, hard and sharp and violent. The kiss catches Roxas unawares and their teeth click together as they meet openmouthed. Riku twists his head to the side, pressing his tongue between Roxas's parted teeth. Their eyes stay open, although Roxas's widen in shock.

Riku pulls back when Roxas bites his tongue. He drops Roxas again, and again his head hits the wall.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Roxas's lower lip is red from the kiss, and his words are thick with Riku's saliva. Again, he asks, "Who is Sora?"

"I wish you wouldn't make this difficult," Riku says. He pauses and breathes. "What will happen to you?" he says, but his voice is almost a whisper.

The bindings intent lines into Roxas's wrists and between his knuckles as he struggles and pulls, but the fabric doesn't give enough for him to pull his hands apart. The bed squeaks with his efforts, and squeaks again as Riku leans forward until they are nearly pressed forehead to forehead. Their bangs feather into each other, swaying as they breathe. Riku reaches down, and pulls at the long zipper that runs the front of Roxas's robes, pulls it down to the waist.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Roxas says again, trying to kick Riku between the legs and failing. "Get off of me!" As he struggles, his robes part, over his chest and over his shoulders. He wears a t-shirt beneath them, oversized on his narrow frame, and the contrast between the pale t-shirt and the long, black, silver-studded robes is surreal.

Riku pauses to meet Roxas eye to eye. Roxas's eyes are narrowed and creased under his angry brow, but Riku's expression is fond, sad, and forgiving, his ice eyes grown fluid at the edges. Looking away, he presses his shoulder into Roxas's chest, pinning him against the wall so that he can reach down between them and unzip the full length of Roxas's robes. The zipper sings as it slides down. Beneath the t-shirt, he wears black cargo pants. As Riku straightens again, he hooks his hands up under Roxas's t-shirt, pulls it up, presses his palms to the long thin line of Roxas's stomach.

"You're a pervert."

Riku slides his hands up further. His palms press against Roxas's pectorals, his fingers finding the shallow valley of ribs, his thumbs rubbing across Roxas's nipples. "At least you're civil about it," he says.

"Who is Sora?"

"Somebody." Riku ducks his head down, sets his neck at an awkward angle, and reaches in to kiss Roxas again. He presses his lips to Roxas's lips, laps at Roxas's swollen bottom lip with his tongue, tries to tease Roxas's mouth open. Roxas is unresponsive. After a minute, Riku pulls back. "Somebody that I used to know," he says.

"And I have his eyes," Roxas says. He's given up on his bindings. They've left red welts on his hands, but still hold firm.

"You do." With Roxas's arms tied behind his back, it's impossible for Riku to pull his shirt up any further. Instead he slides his hands back down, feeling the curve around Roxas's side, the straight line down to his narrow waist. Beneath his hands, Roxas's stomach trembles, and then he erupts in low dry laughter.

"You sick, sick fuck." The laugh continues through his speech, making his words unfinished and raw. His chest lifts towards Riku, and Riku wraps his hands around it, stretching his fingers wide with the velvet sound of skin against warm skin. "Sick fuck," Roxas says again, murmuring this time, the words like a low chuckle.

"Please," Riku says.

Again, Riku bends his head his head down, finds Roxas's mouth, meets it. This time Roxas parts his lips to Riku's tongue, lets him delve deeper, even lifts his tongue and presses it against the length of Riku's. Their lips curve around each other's, purse, relax, and pull away.

Riku pulls back and pushes Roxas down, away from the wall to lay on the bed.

"I have his eyes," Roxas says, squirming around to turn to face up, towards Riku. His tied hands bend his spine, push his chest up. "And now you want me to be him for you? If this is how you knew him, then it's no wonder you don't know him anymore."

The hand that strikes Roxas is the same hand that fights back Heartless is the pure dark, the hand that pulls a blade from the air itself. It makes Roxas's head snap to the side.

"You're not Sora!" Riku has jumped to the other end of his spectrum again, his eyes gone hard, his voice gone hot. "You're not Sora," he says again, each word gritted out like his shoe sole over concrete. "You're nobody. Nobody."

"Nobody," Roxas echoes, turning his head back around. His cheek is flushed as red as his swollen lower lip. His eyes are hard, his eyelids lax and dropping over them.

They kiss again. Riku yanks Roxas's shirt up to his underarms, as far as he can drag it, and grasps at Roxas's chest although there is nothing to grasp: all lean planes and long lines, Roxas's flesh offers up nothing for Riku's to grip. Growling, Riku moves his hands lower, down to the waistband of Roxas's pants. His sleeves fall in the way and entangle in a mess of dark, so once he's unzipped Roxas's fly he pulls back and undoes the zipper down the front of his robe, the same cut and style that falls open over Roxas's shoulders and lays along the bed. He shrugs out of his robe, tosses it behind him, and falls back on Roxas, crouched over him on all fours, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. The black tank that Riku wears rides up over his stomach, and as he leans forward, their bare skin meets and Riku shudders.

Riku's hands grasp again, first at Roxas's hair, but he pulls away. He moves lower, pressing his shoulder hard against Roxas as he worms his hands between their bodies, his palms on Roxas's chest.

Roxas grunts and twists. "My shoulder," he says. "Hurts."

Riku doesn't respond, but he does lean back, pulling his weight off of Roxas. His nails leaving fine red trails on Roxas's skin as his hands slide down, looking for and failing to find flesh to grasp. He pushes one hand into the open fold of Roxas's fly, presses his palm against Roxas's underwear, against Roxas's cock.

Beneath him, Roxas groans like an animal in pain, and at the noise, Riku groans too.

Riku curls his fingers, grabbing for flesh, and Roxas's groan turns sharp. "Fuck!" he says, squirming away from the touch, hips shifting in disjoint from his thrust-up chest.

Riku purses his lips. He leans back further. His baggy pants, trapped between his shins and the bed, tug down until his belt cuts into his hips. Still watching Roxas, who watches back, he undoes his belt, and then his fly, leaves his pants hanging open, his black boxers peaking out. He tugs on Roxas's cargos, tugs down the boy's underpants, leaves both of them on his thighs.

For a moment, Riku pauses, breaking off his sudden flurry of motion. Their eyes meet again. Roxas's mouth is set in a thin scowl, but his eyes are as bright, as wet, as deep, as the sea. They swim like the sea, glinting out new colors, shadowing in immeasurable depths. Riku breaks from the sight of Roxas's eyes only to look down at his body. The elastic waistband of his underpants stretches across Roxas's thighs and indents the lean muscle that runs down the bone. The hair on his thighs is golden and fine. The hair on his scrotum curls in timid thatches and fails to obscure the skin beneath. His erection has a pink flush, much like his cheeks.

Roxas breathes out, the sound like wind.

Leaning forward, his pants falling halfway down his rear, Riku reaches towards Roxas's bared erection and wraps one hand around it, fingers curled until they touch his palm, the length stiff in his hand. He presses his thumb under the head, depressing the ridge that stands out there, and smiles slowly, close-lipped. He pulls his fist up, captures the head of Roxas's cock against his palm, and clenches. Straightening his fingers, he slides his palm flat across Roxas's erection, across his hip, slides his hand back against the bedsheet and cups one asscheek.

He squeezes. The firm flesh swells in the spaces between his fingers, and the cheeks spread apart, opening to his fingertips. He slides his hand further along, pressing his fingers into that cleft, and squeezes again, pulling the cleft open wide. Once more, the sheet bunching up along his knuckles, he slides his hand, pressing his fingers along the cleft, finding Roxas's anus with his fingertips. Riku presses two fingertips against the ring of muscle, pressing the folds of skin into tender smoothness.

A flutter of muscle ripples through Roxas, making his hands clench behind his back, making his abdomen tense, his thighs pull and then relax, his buttocks tighten around Riku's outstretched fingers. He hisses as he trembles, the air coming thin from his lungs, growing into the word "...No." His thighs tense again, and he pushes against the bed, away from Riku's hand, trying to knee Riku away, but he had no leverage and Riku is not moved. "No," he says again. "You can't do that. I'm not Sora."

"You're not Sora," Riku agrees, low and gentle. He rubs his two fingers up the cleft of Roxas's ass, and then down again, making slow circles over Roxas's asshole. Roxas shudders again and groans. "Not Sora," Riku says. "But I think Sora would say the same thing."

Roxas shakes his head, and stops with his cheek pressed to the bedsheet. His mouth has fallen open, and his lips are flushed red, but then he squares his jaw, grits his teeth, and pulls his lips closed. His eyes are shut. His buttocks have not relaxed around Riku's fingers. "No," he says.

"Please," says Riku.

"You're wrong."

"Please," he says again.

"He wouldn't say no."

The silence hangs still around them, as if the moment has frozen, as if both of them are still-captured within it. Then Roxas grows stiff and angry, sputtering, and he begins to fight in earnest. He forgoes his pinioned arms and fights with his legs instead, pushing up against Riku, aiming for his groin, aiming to push him off balance, aiming to do anything at all, ignoring the way that Riku's fingernails dig into his cleft as he thrashes. His robes flap around him like broken black wings, and the bed sags and whines. The sagging tangle of Riku's pants keeps Roxas from making a solid hit, but Riku must throw his weight upon Roxas to still him, trap his twitching thighs beneath his knees to keep him from fighting. Still, Roxas squirms and thrashes, and Riku tightens his grip on the boy's buttock and presses his free hand against the side of Roxas's face. His little finger catches in the shell of Roxas's ear; his thumb presses under his chin, against his throat. Between them, Riku's shirt has been pushed up and his pants pulled down. Their stomachs press together, slick with sweat. Their cocks press together through Riku's boxers. Gradually they fall to stillness. Both of them are breathing hard. Their eyes have locked again.

Riku speaks slowly, measuring out his words. "You are nobody," he says, clear in the silence.

"A Nobody." Roxas's correction is driven to a whisper by the thumb over his throat, and Riku speaks over him.

"Nobody or not, I don't want to hurt you. But I will. If you think he wouldn't say no--if you think so--don't say no." He swallows, the angle of his adam's apple dipping and rising, and then he adds, "Please."

"Who is Sora?"

"Somebody."

"That you used to know." Roxas sighs with a lilt to his tone and a roll of his eyes, then he keeps his eyes raised, looking up at the blue ceiling instead of down at Riku. Beneath Riku and around Riku's fingers, his body begins to unclench and stretch long again, until he falls almost limp against the bed. Riku relaxes his grip on Roxas's ass, pulls his hand away from his trachea, but he does not lean back.

"Your eyes," says Riku.

"His eyes." The impatient lilt is still in Roxas's voice.

"Look at me."

Roxas rolls his eyes back down, and for all of his sarcasm, his brow is bunched and raised in fear and his eyes are wide. "I don't fucking know what Sora would say," he whispers, and Riku ignores him.

Instead, slowly, gently, Riku begins to move his two fingers again, rolling them in tight circles over Roxas's asshole. He watches Roxas's eyes, and when his golden brows begin to unknit, he presses firmer until his fingertips just slip into Roxas. Still, he rolls his fingers, letting skin rub against skin at the entrance. A flush rises over Roxas's cheekbones, down his cheeks, and feathers over his neck until it disappears in the bunched collar of his t-shirt. His eyes swim, ocean-blue and ocean-fluid. But then Roxas's tenses and tightens again, and Riku slows almost to a stop.

"Don't draw it out," Roxas says, and he thrusts, as best he can with his legs pinned under Riku's shins, thrusts down towards Riku's fingers. "It's not my first time."

Riku raises his eyebrows, and then he nods. He pulls his hands away and slides his legs apart, straddling Roxas again, giving him room to move. He spits on his fingers, and the saliva runs from his fingertips, down the valley between his fingers, pooling where they meet his hand.

When Riku lowers his hand to Roxas's waist again, Roxas pushes up from the bed and spreads his legs. Riku presses his two fingers to Roxas's asshole, rolls them slightly, slicks his saliva down Roxas's cleft, and then presses in, and in, twisting his fingers to work the saliva over Roxas's skin, twisting his fingers to push them deeper until they're as deep as they can go, Roxas's body hot around him, his fingers in to the base of his hand.

Roxas is murmuring to himself, so low that the sounds are barely words. "Best of a bad situation," he says, and then, "This is not what I thought he meant." And then, louder, "Come on."

Riku twists his fingers, and they slide within Roxas, the friction of skin on skin still catching over his knuckles. Roxas groans, the sound overtaking any more mumbled words, and Riku presses in until his other fingers splay uncomfortably, crooking his fingertips, straightening them, spreading his fingers apart. The angle is all wrong: Roxas's bound hands push his back up and his tailbone down, forcing Riku to twist his wrist around to reach deep. He pulls out, swirls over that ring of muscle again, and then pushes back in, all the way. He thrusts his fingers in and out, not too far, the best he can with the angle, thrusting until the pads of his third joint begin to catch and stick, tacky dry, at Roxas's entrance. Scissoring his fingers once more, he pulls his hand away, and then he leans back and stands up off the bed.

"Turn over." Roxas looks up when Riku speaks, but Riku isn't watching him: he's busy pulling his tank top off over his head, his hair falling heavy over his bare shoulders, and kicking off his shoes and losing his pants. When Riku's undressed, Roxas is still laying on the bed, his pants at his thighs, his chest thrust forward, his cloak tangled over his shoulders. Riku grabs Roxas by the shoulder and rolls him himself, then pauses with Roxas face-down on the bed.

"Infernal cloaks," Riku says, and tugs Roxas's up, pulling the hood up to the nape of his neck, pushing the sleeves up to his shoulders until he can see Roxas's bound hands. He leans forward over the bed and fumbles at the knots, but Roxas has pulled them tight by struggling, and they won't come undone under Riku's fingers. "Infernal knots," he swears this time, and then looks around him, at the empty blue room.

"Fuck." Riku tugs at a knot again and then leans over Roxas. His weight pushes Roxas against the bed and Roxas moans and grinds his hips, making his cloak shiver around him like the living darkness itself. Riku finds the one unzipped edge of the cloak, holds it by the zipper, and saws it at the sheets where they stretch between Roxas's hands. He catches one edge of fabric between the zip teeth, and it begins to tear.

As Riku tugs on his cloak, Roxas turns his head, looking around the hood and wealth of fabric to glare at Riku. "Hey," he says, "careful with that."

"You don't need it anymore," Riku replies, never looking up.

"Don't you have, I don't know, a blade for that sort of business?"

In the blue light of the room, Riku blushes purple. He does not look away from the zipper and the sheet.

One piece of the bindings tears in half, and soon Riku severs the other. Now Roxas trails stretched frayed white scraps, but he's no longer bound, he can move his hands apart. Riku drops the zippered edge of the cloak and then tugs at its hood, pulling the cloak down over Roxas's arms, dropping it on the floor and kneeling on it as he tugs off Roxas's shoes and pants. His underpants leaves a long red line across his thighs as Riku pulls them off.

"Turn over," Riku says, and this time Roxas does, even as Riku says, "I want to look at you while I do it."

Roxas lays on his back and slides up along the bed until his head nearly hits the wall behind it. The pillow teeters on the edge of the bed and falls onto the floor with a dull thump. Roxas picks at the bindings as best he can with his hands still half-bound to fists, but manages to tug them off, freeing his fingers, letting the scraps hang from his wrist. He flexes his hands open and closed, and Riku climbs on to the bed between his legs, kneeling on his shins and looking down at Roxas.

"You--" Riku begins, but Roxas cuts over him. "Yes," he says, and, his eyes wide, he bends his knees and presses his feet, one sock on, the other half off, to the surface of the bed.

Riku spits into his palm once, twice, and then drops his hand and wraps his fist around his cock. Eyes still wide and brilliant blue, Roxas follows the motion. Riku's skin is sandy tan, even down his bare chest and over his thighs. His hair, however, is pale, and the red blush of his scrotum shows through it. His cockhead over the ring of his fist is red and dark. He runs his fist up and over it, then down again, before dropping his hand away.

He grabs the top of Roxas's thighs with both hands, one palm still slick, and pulls him down. The ruined bedsheet folds and gathers under the small of Roxas's back. Roxas's thighs stand outside Riku's hips, and when Roxas falters, his legs slide closer, the tender flesh at the inside of his thigh ghosting across Riku's skin. Riku drops a hand again, reaching down his body, holding the base of his cock. He rocks his hips and moves his hand, pressing forward and down until he guides the head of his cock to Roxas's asshole. Again he rocks his hips, and the head nudges that ring, wetness starting to slip against wetness.

Riku rocks his hips again, pushing the head of his cock into Roxas while Roxas breathes out. His fingertips stretch; briefly, he feels where their two bodies meet, then he pulls his hand away. He wraps both arms outside Roxas's knees, presses both hands over Roxas's thighs, and pulls Roxas closer as he rolls his own hips up, driving his cock in deeper.

Though he does not make eye contact, Riku watches Roxas's eyes while he penetrates him. His brow furrows with the effort of it, as he looks closely at the clump and fan of Roxas's short downy eyelashes, the fluid edge to Roxas's pupil, the striations of color into color through the iris, bright cerulean and deeper ocean blue. Roxas holds his eyes open as Riku's gaze flits across them, but he shuts them tight when Riku has pressed into him to the hilt, when Riku rocks his hips again, sharply this time, jabbing his cock forward as if to make sure it as deep as it can go, as if to assure that it can't go any deeper.

Roxas breathes shallow breaths between his clenched teeth.

Riku's thighs tense and he begins to pull back, with the same slow speed with which he pushed in. When Roxas opens his eyes again, Riku's smooth movement hitches to a stop and then starts again, his thighs shaking with the effort of his slow, steady pace. Their gazes meet and hold, and Roxas scowls, a shutter running through his body and making his skin tremble like the surface of ocean water.

"You're a slow fuck," Roxas says, his words hissing now as he grinds his teeth. "And a shit rapist."

Riku's hands on Roxas's thighs tighten into claws, fisting the lean meat there, driving his nails into Roxas's skin. He leans his chest back, tugs Roxas towards him, and thrusts his hips up, and before Roxas has even stilled his speech for another breath, Riku impales him and sends his head flying back, his neck stretching long, his white-wrapped hands clenching at the last of their bindings.

He pulls back. He pauses, his breathing heavy in the air. He does it again, thrusting in hard, violent, solid. And again. And again, until when he pulls back and stops, Roxas keeps his head back and keeps his hands curled into fists.

"Look at me, damnit."

Roxas pulls his head back down. His eyes swim in wetness, bright and fluid. Riku thrusts in again, and this time he finds a rhythm of constant movement, dropping his grip from Roxas's thighs and leaning over him. With Riku's hands on the bed over Roxas's shoulders, the air between them grows thick with sweat. They are nose to nose, eye to eye. Riku gasps hot air over Roxas's face. Roxas still has his teeth gritted shut, but he bares them and gasps in shallow breath.

The thin lubrication of spit starts to dry, building up friction and heat. Riku's arms shake from the weight of his body, and he drops down to his elbows, his forearms pressed to Roxas's shoulders where his sleeves have bunched up high, his chest pressed to Roxas's chest. Between them, only one heart beats. They clench and shake against each other. Roxas and Riku both have their eyes open, though pressed forehead to forehead now they can only see blurs. Riku's hair falls in Roxas's face and sticks to the sweat on his brow, falls over his lips and teeth. Riku's thrusts grow uneven, and Roxas lifts his legs and wraps them around Riku's waist, pulling him close and guiding his rhythm. He presses the heels of his feet against the small of Riku's back, and his loose sock falls off, leaving him half barefoot.

"Sora," Riku says, his voice dry with panting. He pushes up on one elbow, his fist clenched, his whole arm trembling, and looks at Roxas. Swallowing, he speaks in between hard breaths, in between thrusts. "Tell Sora," he says, "I love him."

Roxas's voice is not much better, but it is tighter, lower, coiling within him. "Who is Sora?" he asks, his dry lips curling around the vowels.

"Tell Sora," Riku says, "I'll find him. Tell Sora I won't forget him. Tell Sora I'll do anything for him." His voice hitches in his throat and his elbow slides out, making him fall heavy against Roxas's thin chest.

"Anything," Roxas says. "You'd even rape a Nobody for him." Roxas laughs, then coughs when he discovers his throat is too dry for laugher. "Fucking tell him yourself," he begins to say.

Riku halts mid-thrust, his buttocks tight as he clenches and jerks up to all fours. His cock slips out, hangs red between his legs. Shifting his weight onto his left arm, he pulls back his right. His face knots, lip rising in a scowl, eyes hard and bright. He knots his fist as well, and when Roxas starts to speak again he punches Roxas in the jaw, sends his neck snapping back at an angle. With the same hand he spreads his thumb and fingers over Roxas's throat.

Slowly, deliberately, he leans his weight towards his right arm. His hair sways over his shoulders and the side of his face as he looks down and when Roxas looks up at Riku, Riku is watching him. He curls his fingers into Roxas's neck.

Roxas's eyes water. His jaw is angry red. He beings to flush.

Riku licks his lips and then says, "Shut the fuck up." He twists his hand, rubbing red friction across the skin of Roxas's neck. He curls his fingers tighter, his nails digging into Roxas's skin.

Roxas opens his mouth. His lips are wet. He tries to gasp in air.

"Shut up," Riku says again before he jerks his hand away. As Roxas pants, Riku pushes himself up to kneel and grabs Roxas by the ankles, lifts his legs until his ass rises from the bed, and holds them up in the air while he pulls forward. The back of Roxas's thighs fall against Riku's chest when Riku releases his ankles. One hand on his cock, Riku lines them up again and shoves into Roxas, making Roxas cry out, high and short.

He holds Roxas by the thighs, pulling him higher, closer so that each thrust drives his cock in further. Mouth still gaping, Roxas fists his hands in the sheets, pulling the sheets with him as Riku's thrusts push him down the bed until his head cracks against the wall, beating against it as Riku beats into him.

Riku leans forward over Roxas and grabs the edge of the bed behind him. He makes Roxas bend in upon himself, knees to his chest, ankles over Riku's shoulders, back driven down and ass pulled up. Riku thrusts through Roxas and into the mattress, driving in deep, making the whole bed rock beneath them. The springs whine. Roxas's head thumps against the wall. Riku gasps deep in his lungs as he thrusts. Roxas pants high in his throat as Riku leans on him. Riku's thighs and balls slap against Roxas's ass, rhythmic, sharp, and lewd.

"Fuck," Riku says as he gasps out, rolling out the vowel long and thick.

Roxas's panting breaks off in a long dry sob. "Stop," he says, his voice only whisper. He fights for breath. "Stop."

Riku clenches his fists, digs his knees into the mattress, and curls his toes. He thrusts deep into Roxas and holds himself there, their flesh sticking together, his whole body shaking. He pulls back until only the head of his cock remains in Roxas's ass. He closes his eyes. He does it again. Roxas's cries are faint.

Another long deep drive in and then Riku grows erratic, thrusting fast and shallow, swearing as he does it, his words slurring together. He shakes, pulls his hands from the bed, grabs onto Roxas's shoulders instead. He pulls their bodies together as he thrusts in, his jaw tightens, and he falls still. His knuckles are white as he digs his fingers into Roxas's shoulders. He is stiff and still, yet his whole body shakes. He keeps his eyes closed and his head droops down, mouth falling open although he does not breathe.

Below him, Roxas whines and tries to move his legs.

Riku takes a breath and lets go of Roxas's shoulders. He falls back, his cock slipping free, his shoulder pressing against the wall as he slumps half on, half off the bed. Roxas leans back and uncurls his legs, and they fall over Riku where he lays. Riku raises one shaking hand, runs his fingers through his wet bangs and pushes them back from his eyes. He looks at Roxas.

"Oh, fuck you," Roxas says, and scoots back until he can slouch against the wall behind him. He spits into his palm and then grabs his cock and starts jerking himself off. The head of his cock is wet and red as it disappears into his fist and rises from it again.

Riku raises his hand again. For a moment he presses it over his eyes, hiding the view of Roxas masturbating, and then he lets it fall and he watches, looking at Roxas's eyes, looking at his fist slide over his cock. Roxas looks back at him, flushed and bruised, his eyes slow blinking brilliant blue. His hand over his cock makes a wet slick sound, a quiet slap where his fist hits his abdomen and balls at the base of his cock.

He comes into his hand as Riku watches, keeping his eyes open though this lids grow heavy, gritting his jaw tight, silent except for a low moan and his heavy breathing. His semen splatters across his stomach and his fist, so a moment later he wipes both with the bedsheet. Then, pushing off of the wall, his movements unsteady, he crawls up to his knees, spreads them apart, and pulls the sheet between his legs, wiping away Riku's come where it drips down his thigh.

Then he sits back down, and slumps.

"I should kill you," Roxas says, head downturned, looking up at Riku.

Riku pushes himself off the bed and stands, steadying himself with his hand on the wall when his knees shake. He sighs, and reaches down for his underwear, his pants, his shirt. He pulls them on, his underwear sticking to his cock, his tank soaking up the sweat down his chest and under his arms.

"Oh, that's it then, is it?" Roxas asks. His voice is low, as if he is talking to himself, but in the sudden silence of the room it carries.

Riku tosses him his clothes. "Just shut up, won't you," he says, but there is no more anger or energy in his voice. He picks up both cloaks, holds them by the hoods to figure out which one is bigger, and then tosses the smaller to Roxas. When he pulls on his cloak he grimaces, but he does up the long zipper, concealing himself in black. He steps into his shoes without unlacing them, wiggling his foot until they slide on, and then sorts through the gloves, trying on one of Roxas's before he finds his own pair.

Roxas sighs, shrugs, and scoots to the edge of the bed. He wipes between his legs again and the corner of the sheet comes away sticky and wet, then he starts to pull on his clothes, fanning himself with his shirt before he tugs it over his head. He stands and winces, stretching out both legs and taking a tentative step before he pulls his cloak over his arms. "That fucking hurt," he says as he bends over to fasten the base of the zipper. It clicks and sings as he pulls it up. He tugs at the last of his bindings until they finally come free of his hands, and he stretches his fingers wide before pulling on his gloves, saying, almost absently, "Really fucking hurt."

He looks down, tugs up his robe until he can see his feet, toes his shoes into line, and then steps into them, wriggling in just like Riku has done. "Whoever this Sora is," he says, "he had better be worth it." His hair is too short to hide his eyes as he looks down, and Riku watches them, bluer now against the wealth of black that hangs around him.

His second shoe half on, the heel bending under the pressure of his foot, Roxas freezes. He unclenches his hands and drops them slack beside him, drops his weight onto both feet, the heel of his shoe folding. He raises his head and looks straight at Riku with wide eyes.

"Sora," he says slowly, the syllables distinct, the vowels long, testing out the sound and the taste of the word. Slow revelation rolls across his features, dropping slack his jaw, raising his eyebrows, turning his eyes bright and reflective. He blinks, slowly. His lips tense again.

Riku thrusts out his fist and with a flash his blade is there, tight in his grip. Roxas tenses and pulls back, bringing both arms up over his chest, but Riku moves too fast for him: he raises his blade, lunges forward. The air sings as he brings the blade down, connecting the flat of it, not far from the hilt, just behind Roxas's temple. His hair deadens the thump, and Roxas's eyes fall closed. His knees give and he slumps to the floor, leaning against the bed, his arms crossed over his bent legs.

Riku drops his arm and his blade flashes away.

Roxas's shoe hangs off of his toe, so Riku crouches and shoves it onto his foot, sliding his finger into the heel to pull it straight. He tugs Roxas by one arm onto the bed, and his body slumps there, bent over itself.

Standing, Riku treads on his blindfold. He looks down at Roxas. The boy's arms and hands fall limp and long, his fingertips against the floor. His head droops, and so Riku tilts it back up, his fingers under Roxas's chin. Roxas's eyes are closed.

"You really are his Nobody," Riku says. He leans down, looking closely at the fold of Roxas's closed eyes, the curve of his nose, jaw, and chin. He sigh and his breath ruffles Roxas's bangs. "I guess I have to trust DiZ." Riku pulls his hand away, and Roxas's head lolls back down. He raises Roxas's hood over his hair and tugs it down until it hangs almost as far as his chin, obscuring Roxas's bruises in darkness. Behind the hood, Roxas becomes anonymous.

Riku chokes and coughs, putting his hand to his chest, over his heart, thumping his fist there. Then he puts his hand to his eyes, pressing them shut, rubbing his fingertips over his eyelids.

In the blue room, the light flickers and dims. Shadows emerge from the corners, reaching out and growing, rising into electric wind. They pool beneath Riku's feat and claw up the hem and length of his coat. Black lightening spikes and swirls and when Riku drops his hand, he looks out at the room through a veil of shadow. Behind it, Roxas with his hood and robe is as black as darkness itself.

"So this is how it goes," Riku says against the crackle of the black wind. "My path is always through the dark."

He slides his feet apart, his blindfold trapped under his sole, unraveling over the floor. The lightening climbs into a storm, whipping up his clothes and hair. With both his hands, Riku pushes his hair back and his long bangs do not fall again over his eyes. Instead, they pull back, the ends spiking up at his crown. Bared, his forehead is high. He juts his jaw. He sets his mouth in a long line. He narrows his eyes and stares through the darkness at Roxas's body. Behind the black wind Riku's skin grows darker and darker until it appears tan even over the black of his robe. The blue of his eyes shadows to dull copper. He moans as electricity spikes him, and his voice is thick and low.

Around him the darkness pillars until it sparks shadow against the ceiling, filling the narrow room with bitter ozone. Roxas's limp body is barely visible through the storm. A single bright bolt of lightening strikes up Riku's spine to the ceiling and he throws his head back, his long hair flying, his mouth open as he screams into the wind. The wind catches and holds his voice, swirls it back around him. It rushes into his face, forcing his scream back down his throat, and with that the wind and shadows begin to slow and die, as if Riku has swallowed them.

The shadows sink back to the corners they came from, and then vanish. In their wake, Riku remains chisel-featured and dark. His knees are crouched and so he straightens, standing tall.

He pulls his hood up, shakes his long hair down the neck of his cloak, and brings the hood over his eyes. With one hand, he grabs Roxas by the shoulder, heaving him up, dragging him a step back.

"The worst is over, now," he says, his voice deep, "for you. I will take you to DiZ."

A portal builds behind him and, dragging Roxas, he steps backwards into it, into darkness.


End file.
